Dream

November air pours in from the dark island night Through our Caribbean windows, A sea salt breeze, an exhale, white cushioned wicker chairs Window slats turned out And I turned in, a white nightgown A full breath in my bed, eyes closed more lightly than an infant’s palm A familiar corsage sits on the night stand Next to the red blinking 12 am, where we had hastened To bed, to roll out feather blankets, To trace the curve of our intertwined hands To leave the first mark on our flaxen rose stationary Noting how our crawling would become steps And our eyes would tantalize Tomorrow and each coming day Our hands raised high But love, you bore me in different hills You spoke to me with a sharper tongue Your corsage was a cell phone, and your flashing 12 Was a different 12, and it hurt my hazel eyes. Love, you rib my imperfections You slight my bed, with bad pillows And dreams that make me too contented With dreams that look too much Like my reality O love, dear love Could I solicit for just enough of nothing? Can you give me enough, or give me something My hands are full of bells and disconsolate bones Clinking like pennies on glass, they tremble and they slump O love, you're disappointing My fingers have lost their veins They no longer beat like young little hearts But dance like frantic ants with their teeth sunk in My hands can’t find you and They won’t leave me alone They won’t be let to rest, and I won’t be let to know Whether this season is ending Whether I will fail, or raise my flag Whether I will ever really know you But I pray each moment I hope for just enough I will hope with each word that falls off That you will fly safely That you will love graciously Whether for me Or beyond the sea I pray, my love, I won’t let go My love, my God, will carry I pray you will remember To dream